


The art of peace and love

by Soroka



Category: Wander Over Yonder
Genre: First Meetings, Friendship, Gen, Platonic Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-26
Updated: 2016-06-26
Packaged: 2018-07-18 08:36:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,891
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7307887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Soroka/pseuds/Soroka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's not that Sylvia doesn't believe in the power of love. She just knows that it doesn't pack much of a punch and with Dominator closing in, it might soon need to.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The art of peace and love

The most inconvenient thing about the power of love, Sylvia thought, was that it lost to a punch in the face ninety-nine percent of the time.

It wasn’t a particularly comforting thought but it kept her on her toes and one could never be too careful. The universe was a dangerous place even for tough cookies like her and there was no shortage of wackos trying to grab as much of it as they could and constantly upstaging one another. Emperor Awesome had his planet-ending raves that left everyone deaf for weeks; before he quit villainy, the Black Cube of Darkness was famous for using the soulless husks of his victims for dismal puppets shows and Lord Hater mostly tried to make the poor schmucks he conquered worship him as a rock-star. Compared to this, Dominator’s special brand of crazy was almost refreshing. At the end of the day, she managed to keep her hold over the planets she invaded and was frighteningly simple about her demands. Everything she touched burnt to a crisp and everyone’s lives were instantly miserable as a result. No matter how appalled Sylvia was at her trail of destruction, she could not argue with her classic approach to world domination.

She could also not argue with the fact that as great heroes of the galaxy went, Wander and her had been woefully ineffective so far.

She watched her friend’s eyes light up as the new resident hot shot smashed another of Dominator’s bots to pieces and suppressed a worried sigh. Her unruly, competitive side had spent the entire fight foaming at the mouth, screaming at her to stop watching from the sidelines and go give that bot a piece of her mind. It was a hard voice to ignore but at the same time, somewhere beneath that crusty layer of jealousy and resentment, a strange feeling of sadness arose. Wander might be over the moon with the recent developments but he was bound to be less giddy once their implications sank in. The anonymous do-gooder’s deeds, no matter how heroic, had effectively proven that the brute force her friend abhorred was quicker and more effective than all the sunshine and positivity in his bottomless arsenal. The fact that this wandering knight had stolen his look and even his catchphrase made it especially poignant in her eyes. Seeing this action hero effortlessly crush one Dombot after another felt like a slap in the face and, what was worse, it brought back memories of a young, foolish Sylvia, full of anger and unresolved issues, who believed wholeheartedly that violence was always the right answer.

It had taken her a long time to realize that she was wrong and even longer to convince herself that she wasn’t wrong about that as well. Everything in her had fought this change, despite the fact that not living as a hardened bounty hunter made her life much easier and people actually began warming up to her instead of running for cover at the very sight of her. It had been hard at times but she had Wander by her side and as they travelled together, she had learned to channel her aggressiveness and strength towards helping people. Sure, they had met quite a few nasty characters on their journey but they had always made it out unscathed.

Mostly, because they had never come across anyone truly mad. There had never been anyone like Dominator.

The grim hologram of their galaxy consumed by fire still burned bright in Sylvia’s memory along with Peeper’s horrified expression. Dominator’s maniacal grin and almost childlike thumbs-up on the screen left no room for doubts. This was not a tyrannical supervillain not thinking things through; this was not someone who did not realize that once they destroyed the galaxy, they’d have nothing to rule over. This was premeditated down to the tiniest detail with absolutely no sign of wavering or remorse. This was a person who woke up one day and decided that they were going to dedicate their life to completely eradicating every living thing in the universe until they were the only ones left.

The realization had made her blood run cold. Every single person in the galaxy had been dead wrong about Dominator, including Wander whose hopeless idealism only made him blind to her true colors. Of course she didn’t want to date Hater, she didn’t want to date anybody. She didn’t care for friends or family or anyone except cold, lifeless machines without free will that she could alter or discard as she pleased. She was an unstoppable hammer and every planet she came across was a nail ready to be smashed in. How could love and kindness ever hope to defeat someone like that? How could they hold any real power at all?

From their safe position on a hilltop, watching the battle unfold in the village below, the answer was depressing to even think about. Instead, her mind drifted to a time long past, to a scorching afternoon on a faraway desert planet when a muffled voice spoke to her through a sack slumped over her shoulders and offered her a sandwich.

The proposition was tempting enough to get her stomach rumbling but she just clenched her teeth and walked on, beads of sweat rolling down her forehead. The fight against Killbot 86 had been more grueling than she expected and now that the adrenaline had worn off, she was beginning to feel all of the tiny cuts and bruises from slamming into rocks and punching through steel plates. The dull throbbing, along with the hunger pangs would unavoidably slow her down and she cursed under her breath as she remembered that her med-kit, along with the last bit of her rations had been stolen before she even set foot on this planet. At least robots did not have to eat or sleep, she thought bitterly, rubbing her sore knuckles. Not feeling pain either was another unfair advantage your average tin can had over a meat-bag like her, which made it even more satisfying to smash their faceplates in every once in a while.

She winced at the hot wind brushing against a raw spot on her calf and sniffed the air anxiously. She could smell a sandstorm coming her way and on this planet, they were known to kill anyone stupid enough to be caught in their path. Instinctively, she picked up her pace and scanned the dusty horizon. If she wanted to keep her flesh on her bones she had to find an orbble pump and find it fast.

As she lowered her sack on the ground and fumbled with her map, she heard the same cheerful voice again. “Excuse me, miss. Would you care for a sandwich?”

She rolled her eyes under the sweat soaked bandana and tried to ignore another bout of loud rumbling in her stomach. She had heard this all before. Sometimes, her captives would try talking to her and Sylvia would gladly give up part of the reward not to listen. They started small, meekly telling her their names and favorite flavors of ice-cream, trying to get her to see them as a person instead of a talking paycheck. They stuttered on and on about their families, their childhood friends and even about what led them to turn to crime in the first place, all as a desperate ruse to get in her good graces and convince her to let them go. Their trembling voices annoyed her to no end, mostly because they were just pathetic enough to feel sorry for them and at the same time, not likeable enough for her to cave in. Walking that tightrope between compassion and the need to make a living was exhausting but she consoled herself by thinking that they probably deserved whatever awaited them at the end of their journey. They were con artists, grifters, thieves, arsonists and in general, people that were better off behind bars. Being part of the same unsavory bunch, she knew that for a fact and held on to that thought whenever they tried to manipulate her into a false sense of camaraderie. People like them did not deserve anything more than a boot to the face and she was happy enough to be on the other end of that boot.

The contents of the sack beside her wiggled and stretched out like a small animal swallowed whole by a snake. Eventually, a small furry head with a giant green hat popped out and gave her a wide, toothy grin.

“Would you like mustard or mayo?” it asked. “I got both kinds though I myself would go for the mustard in this heat. Don’t you think so?”

Sylvia stopped squinting at the faded letters on the map and eyed the furball with growing suspicion. He seemed to be fairly unconcerned about his current plight and was innocently humming something folksy under his breath. Out of all the tactics her prisoners had tried, this one was entirely new. Maybe the desert heat was getting to him or maybe he was just so far gone into his own happy place that he was trying not to think of what would happen once she handed him over.

She raised a sweaty eyebrow and looked down into a pair of friendly brown eyes staring at her like she was the most fascinating thing in the universe.

“If you’re trying to give me food poisoning”, she warned him, “it’s not going to work. I’ve trained my stomach to withstand most of this galaxy’s known poisons.”

The small creature didn’t even try to call her bluff. Instead, it shook its head vigorously, green hat flopping from side to side as an expression of horror crossed its face. “Oh, no, no no! I would never do that, miss! I keep them in a cool dry place so they always stay fresh and tasty. Would you like to try one?”

Sylvia blinked slowly at his eager expression. The heat must definitely be getting to him because there was no cool dry place in sight. It was also beginning to dawn on her that no one had ever called her “miss” before. The word managed to be a compliment and at the same time, a thorn in her side. Most people she had come across barely considered her worthy of a “hey, you” or a “lady”, said in that dismissive tone that always made her see red. But there was no trace of sarcasm in the furry creature’s voice, only wide-eyed friendliness, the kind that made her wonder what he was even wanted for.

Probably some scam or a fraud of some kind. It’s always the innocent looking ones, she thought. Then again, she was really starting to get hungry and if he had food, she’d welcome anything.

“Okay, smart guy, you win!” She plopped down on a log next to the sack and cracked her knuckles menacingly. “But you better stay where you are or I’ll hunt you down before you can say ‘don’t hurt me’!”

The small creature nodded eagerly and wiggled inside the sack to free a knotty arm. In one long fluid movement it yanked the hat off his head and reached inside.

Sylvia almost gagged as she saw him rummage in its depths. “That’s your cool, dry place? Forget it, pal! I want to live to see tomorrow.”

Her prisoner raised a reassuring hand, smiling like they were old friends meeting for brunch. “No, no, it’s perfectly fine. I’d never have anything harmful here.” It leaned over the fallen hat and felt its contents gingerly. “Though if you don’t feel like sandwiches, I could try and get you something else.”

He wiggled out his second arm and half dove inside the hat. Sylvia could not help but notice that any smarter prisoner would have tried to flee about five hundred times by now. Whatever was keeping him there was anyone’s guess but at least he was entertaining and he hadn’t wasted her time pleading for his freedom yet. Wherever this pointless charade went, it was bound to be quite an interesting place.

She narrowed her eyes at the carefree humming as the creature searched on, like a kid rummaging through an enormous toy chest. Some of the sounds coming from there definitely did not belong to anything one would keep in a hat. She could swear she had heard badly oiled hinges and pottery smashing on a tiled floor.

“So what else do you keep there?” she asked nonchalantly.

“Oh, all kinds of things! This old hat is helpful like that.” He paused as he reached even further down into impossible depths and let out a muffled exclamation of joy. “Oh, yes! This should hit the spot!”

He wiggled himself free and leaned on the brim like a magician pulling a rabbit out of the proverbial hat. Only instead of a rabbit it was a porcelain plate with a giant piece of jellyfish pie, looking like it was fresh out of the oven. A ball of purple starberry ice-cream sat on top of it like a jewel on a king’s crown, dripping slightly down the golden crust.

Sylvia stared at the plate like a hungry wolf at a lone sheep. “Is that real?” she managed eventually reaching out to touch the cool porcelain surface.

The creature nodded and pushed the plate towards her along with a small fork and an embroidered napkin. “It sure it, real as life itself! You better eat it before it melts. They say it’s best when the pie is still warm and the ice-cream still cold."

Her stomach roared at the words and Sylvia did not need to be asked twice. She grabbed the piece of pie with her fingers, completely forgoing the shiny silver fork and sank her teeth into the soft crust. She breathed in the scent of cinnamon and felt the world blur around the edges. Suddenly, she was no longer a tough bounty hunter but a small child, tapping her feet restlessly while her mother opened the oven door and slid out a round, golden treasure. She had had jellyfish pie before; in fact, she could probably list every restaurant in that sector in order of jellyfish pie quality but this was the first time she had found the exact same taste that her mother whipped up in their small dingy kitchen as a reward for good behavior. It had the same buttery crust, the same smooth jelly filling that melted in her mouth, down to the same spicy fragrance that lingered in the house for hours and seeped into her mother’s hair and clothes. It tasted of a much simpler life when little Sylvia worshipped her mother, one when they didn’t argue all the time, one in which she probably wouldn’t have left home with barely a parting word. One in which she could still admit that she missed her.

She felt her eyes sting under the hot desert wind and hastily wiped at them as she pushed the rest of the pie in her mouth. Her prisoner cocked his head in amusement. “Whoa, slow down there, fella! A tasty treat is wasted if you just gobble it down. You gotta enjoy it! See?”

He dove into his hat, fished out a piece of crabapple pie and began munching on it. His eyes widened as he watched the wind whip complicated spirals across the sand. “Wow, isn’t that amazing? I wonder what’s making the wind so creative today!”

Sylvia wrinkled her nose at the dry, acrid smell drifting through the desert. “That would be a sandstorm, pal. A really big one, too; the kind that leaves your bones so dry they can use them as wind chimes later.”

The creature nodded at her grim explanation and picked out the crumbs out of his fur. “Really? That’s fascinating! You’re really clever, you know?”

The pointless adulation fell on deaf ears as she gave her cracked orbble juice bottle a half-hearted shake. One last glum look at the bare horizon confirmed her worst fears. They were nowhere near civilization and even if they were, they wouldn’t be able to reach it in time. Her stomach twisted as she thought of her family and how they would never know what had happened to her. At least the universe had even been thoughtful enough to provide her with a nice last meal.

Her furry prisoner meanwhile had decided to start whistling an upbeat tune. Sylvia watched him through the shimmering mist rising from the stones, wondering what on earth was going through his head. In her journey through the galaxy, she had sometimes come across a group of wandering monks that wore bright yellow robes and never raised their voices above a soft monotone. They claimed to have freed themselves from all earthly concerns and transcended into the next plane of existence, one where one’s body was just an inconvenient shell they had to bear with. Except that they seemed to move through life like shadows, not paying attention to anyone and treating life with a vague indifference. The creature drumming his fingers to the beat of his own melody seemed to enjoy every second of life and was too enamored with it to get hung up on anything negative. Sylvia wondered if he even realized they were about to die and if she had the heart to tell him.

“Well, this was a nice place to rest!” He thrust the green hat on his head and stretched like a lazy cat in a sunbeam. “But if there really is a storm coming, then we’d better go before it gets here. Don’t you agree, miss?”

Sylvia plopped on a nearby rock and took a disheartened glance at the rapidly darkening sky. “Go where, genius? It’s nothing but sand and rocks for miles and that can opener cracked my last orbble juice bottle.” She lifted the sack she had used to carry her prisoner around and turned it in her hands, wondering if it could serve as any cover. “Try to look on the bright side, at least you’re not going to become bantha fodder or whatever they had in store for you back at Zeeblebrok Five-Seven.”

“Oh…” The creature seemed to consider her words for a second, then reached inside his hat and pulled out a small bottle. “In that case, it will be my pleasure to give you a lift.”

The last words, spoken in the same laid-back, carefree tone were the only thing that stopped her from tackling him to the ground and wrestling the bottle out of his hands. She was used to getting what she needed by either stealing it or taking it by force but she was at a loss about what to do when it was offered to her. She peered at his smiling mug, looking for any signs of sarcasm and felt her mind tail spinning when she found none. It had to be some kind of trick, she thought as she watched him blow a giant blue bubble around him and beckon her closer. No one would deliberately walk into the lion’s den just to do a favor for someone they had just met. Someone who, barely an hour ago, had stuffed him into a sack with the intention of selling him for a hot meal. She had seen mice freeze and resign to themselves to their fate at the sight of a cat but she had never seen a mouse run towards the cat’s open maw while pouring ketchup on itself.

Still, the distant roar of the sandstorm was convincing enough and she stepped into the bubble as it floated gently towards the orange sky. Her prisoner just gave her a wide smile and picked up his pace. “So, where are you headed?” he asked.

Sylvia did not reply, carefully watching the atmosphere of the planet fade as the darkness of space bled into her field of vision. In a few minutes they would be out of the woods and nothing in the world could stop her from hijacking the bubble and dragging her hapless prisoner down to the rendezvous point with her employer. Even in her injured state, she could easily overpower this tiny, twiggy creature and if she kept a good pace she could be there before the end of the cycle. After all, he had served himself up on a silver platter and all she had to do was snatch him up. It was almost too easy.

Just as easy as it would have been for him to orbble up all by himself and leave her behind to be torn apart by the storm.

She turned away from him towards the bright twin suns that spun around each other at the center of the system. “You’re not going to like where I’m going, pal.”

“Then I’ll drop you off and leave.” The creature reached towards his hat again, pulled out an old banjo and plucked at the strings absentmindedly. His face suddenly lit up as a thousand suns as he turned to face her. “Hey, do you want to come with me!”

For a second, Sylvia almost laughed. The naïve ones were her favorite kind of people because they truly believed that they could make world spin in the right direction by the sheer force of their good intentions. They lived in a world where no one would ever act in bad faith and greed and thirst for power were the stuff of heartless villains in fairy tales. It was an impossible world that they insisted in seeing all around them despite all evidence to the contrary. However, after living in that world for an hour, Sylvia could not deny that she wanted to see more of it, just out of pure curiosity. Her own, dark and gritty world would always be there, waiting for its prodigal daughter to return.

She would have to take him to Zeeblebrok in the end, of course. But it didn’t hurt to take a little detour along the way. The universe was, as she could see, full of surprises.

“So what’s your name, you wandering weirdo?” she asked.

He seemed to hesitate for a moment, tapping out an irregular rhythm on his banjo. Eventually, he grinned at her like a Cheshire cat and replied, “Wander.”

The rest, she supposed, was history and it had been the good kind. If anyone back then had told her that her life would turn around to such a degree, she would have laughed in his face and then punched it for good measure. But that was what Wander did to people, friend and foe alike. Back in that remote desert planet, he had triumphed over years of bitter disillusion and way before that, he had taken out Major Threat without firing a single shot. It was an art that the resident new hero did not understand but one that he would have to master if he wanted to beat Dominator and keep the galaxy safe from whoever was bound to replace her.

Unless he ended up being Brad Starlight in disguise fighting against a fake Dombot built by his ten-year-old cousin. Then, the galaxy would have to rely on the fragile power of love after all.

**Author's Note:**

> I'll miss this show when it ends. 
> 
> Save a writer, leave a comment.


End file.
